Now I’m curious, because I’m going a lot faster earlier on in my workout than I usually do, and my asshole is sweating, I have sweat dripping down my face from my eyebrows, and I’m wearing half the clothes than the guy next to me who is essentially trying to race me on treadmills. I didn’t even know assholes could sweat, and this guy wants to go faster?
Month: February 2015
The highlight of the trip came when it was Gram’s turn to get her picture taken. This is a woman whose hands fly to her hip as her right foot juts out forward to a point and smiles like she’s Monroe or Hepburn when she thinks she sees a camera. After two pictures she found appalling, and trying to explain to her the best way to go about having her picture taken, I finally stood her where she had to go, and smushed her face around like putty with my fingers until she had a devilish smirk and no teeth showing.
My chiropractor checked out my tires, of some questionably foreign make, and gave me directions to the nearest gas station with a working air pump machine. Of course the three nearest ones are known for having fritzy air machines, when I need something as free and available as air it would be in short supply. Even though I have an irrational fear of things that explode (specifically: plastic balloons, the refrigerated biscuits in the tube containers, and glass in the oven or holding a candle) my two tires, flatter than a pre-pubescent girl’s chest, were the only things standing between me and my loving boyfriend and the delicious dinner.
I managed to make it there in exactly 35 minutes, and a solid 15 minutes before my appointment was scheduled. I updated my address, my insurance, and then begged the woman at the front desk if I could use the bathroom. Upon promising to leave a urine sample, she gave me directions. Not to be overwhelming graphic, but not only did I fill one 10 – 14 oz cup completely, I could’ve undoubtedly fully filled another 3 – 4 cups with ease. After finally be lead to the examining room, I got my blood pressure taken and was left to put on the fresh scented robe and wait.
Somehow between the movie and the fear for my life, I managed to walk a full 60 minutes and tackle almost a full 4 miles at varying speeds. If only my grandmother could see me now, smiling with tears in my eyes, wearing a non-matching, dumpy outfit sweating like a pig in a butcher’s backyard next to a man holding a gas mask… some people have to pay a lot more than twenty a month for that action.